


Rising of the Lights

by Extrat



Category: Naruto
Genre: Akatsuki - Freeform, Angst, Coming of Age, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Major character death - Freeform, Modern AU, Parent Problems, Summer Romance, Summer Vacation, Terminal Illness, Unspecified Terminal Illness, fuck fugaku, original character parents - Freeform, the akatsuki are all friends and love each other, young adult
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:55:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27139696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Extrat/pseuds/Extrat
Summary: When Deidara's parents move him into a new neighborhood, he's quickly adopted by the local band of misfits.  After Itachi rescues Deidara from a dire situation and makes a daring first impression, Deidara both resents his rescuer and is desperately inspired by him.  As years pass, his mixed feelings get even more complicated.Itachi is a straight A student bogged down by his parents' expectations, but everything changes when he gets a diagnosis with a deadline.  His friends have always been there for him, but now that he actually needs them, does he have it in him to call upon their help?Set against a backdrop of summer vacations, science class experiments, drives on empty roads, and general teenaged angst.Inspired by stories like The Fault In Our Stars and A Walk To Remember.
Relationships: Deidara/Uchiha Itachi
Comments: 3
Kudos: 18





	1. Art Is A Near Death Experience Pt. 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome!  
> This story has been playing over and over in my head like a record on repeat so I'm really excited to share it!  
> Please mind the Major Character Death tag, this is going to be a sad and contemplative fic, my friends.
> 
> tw for a very minor act of misgendering this chapter.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What are you doing in my room?” Deidara asked, incredulous as he watched the kid riffle through his box of belongings and pull a snow globe from it, turning it over in his hands. His matchstick build and round face made him look almost cherubic, but his lifeless eyes gave him the impression of a demon.
> 
> “You have shitty taste,” he said simply, putting down the snow globe in favor of a canvas sitting inside the box. Deidara’s face twisted in frustration at the kid’s audacity.
> 
> “I don’t even know who you are!” Deidara snapped.
> 
> “My name is Sasori,” he said simply, holding their hand out to Deidara, “I live next door.”

Drops of sweat dampened Deidara's hair as he sat on the floor, legs folded underneath him as he dug through one of the several boxes stacked in the center of his new bedroom. Each movement echoed against the bare walls, and Deidara was eager to cover them.

Most fourteen-year-old boys would be beckoned by the endless possibilities provided by a sunny day and the expanse of green canvas outside, but these empty walls offered more to Deidara’s imagination, and this would be his first time decorating a room untouched by parental influence. This time he wouldn’t have to work around the border of yellow birds that his mother plastered to the wall before he could lift his head to protest.

Despite this promise to butt out, he could still sense his mother leaning against the doorway. He kept his eyes on his box, praying that if he pretended not to notice her, she would eventually return to her own moving chores.

"How ya doin', Deidei?" she asked. Her hopeful expression pleaded for a positive answer. Deidara struggled with a smile to placate her. He hated when she called him that.

“I’m fine, mom,” he replied.

“Dad just came back from the grocery store. He bought hummus and carrots~” she sang, hugging the door frame, fingers clinging to the molding.

“I’m  _ fine _ , mom.” His smile began to crack at the edges as she abandoned the door frame and ventured into his bedroom.

“It’s such a beautiful day,” she said, traipsing across the room to his window. “Don’t you think it’s a bit stuffy in here?”

Deidara didn’t answer, eyes rolling while her back faced him.

“Let’s get some fresh air in here, huh?” She looked over her shoulder to smile at him and he forced a smile back. Her hands found the window’s latches and lifted it open above her head. His mother took a deep breath of the fragrant summer air, “Much better.”

With a contented sigh and a glance in his direction, she placed her hands on her hips and asked, “You sure you don’t want any hummus? If you want, you could have your dessert early.”

Deidara covered his face with his hands and groaned loudly, “I’m fine,  _ mother _ , please just  _ go _ .”

She kneeled down beside him and gently pulled his hands away from his face.

“You’re gonna find your place here, okay? I love you.” With that, she pressed a glossy, pink kiss mark to his forehead before standing and leaving whence she came, leaving his door hanging open in her wake. He hastily rubbed the lipstick off, a scowl now masterfully carved into his expression as he went back to his open box, pulling out the colorful sheets that were hiding at the bottom.

He lifted himself back onto his feet, looking over the tie-dye pattern as he spread them across his bed. It was a torrent of smoke and fire with reds and yellows hidden amongst smoky clouds of black dye, and it was a comforting pyre for Deidara to bury himself in at the end of a long day. They were his last project from the old house, and he considered them his crowning achievement.

“Those are kind of ugly, aren’t they?”

Deidara shrieked and turned on his heels to face the source of the sudden voice that broke his peaceful silence. Perched on the window his mother opened was a slight framed child with deep red hair and a cruel smile sitting on their lips. The child looked him over, face otherwise expressionless, before jumping into his bedroom and moving to sit next to the box, the second interloper of the day.

“What are you doing in my room?” Deidara asked, incredulous as he watched the kid riffle through his box of belongings and pull a snow globe from it, turning it over in his hands. His matchstick build and round face made him look almost cherubic, but his lifeless eyes gave him the impression of a demon.

“You have shitty taste,” he said simply, putting down the snow globe in favor of a canvas sitting inside the box. Deidara’s face twisted in frustration at the kid’s audacity.

“I don’t even know who you are!” Deidara snapped.

“My name is Sasori,” he said simply, holding their hand out to Deidara, “I live next door.”

Deidara looked at his hand as if it were green, scowl still firmly etched into his face.

“Well, don’t be rude,” Sasori’s voice was flat as he blinked at Deidara expectantly. Rage bubbled in Deidara’s chest.

“Rude?” Deidara sputtered, “I’m not the girl who-”

“I’m not a girl,” Sasori snapped, but his anger was just a shadow on his otherwise seamless expression. Deidara’s voice halted only for a moment before his anger spurred him on again.

“Well, I’m not the  _ guy _ busting into people’s rooms without permission and insulting their shit,” he said, nose wrinkling as he gestured in the other boy’s direction.

“Your window was open,” Sasori replied, a slight pout sitting on his lips.

“I didn't open the-” Deidara started, only to switch gears as the realization dawned upon him, “That- that’s not permission! Who are you?!”

“Deidei?”

His mother’s soft voice carried from down the hall. He felt his cheeks warm in embarrassment, and then they grew warmer as he noticed the smirk growing on Sasori’s face.

“I’m fine, mom! Just...expressing myself!” his voice wavered even as he said it. Sasori turned away from him, already bored with Deidara’s red face and cracking voice, and his attention turned back to the canvas in his hands.

“So...where do you get so much garbage?” he asked, turning to show Deidara his own painting. The acrylic paint was built up into clouds of black, yellow, and red forming a scene of fire and storm. He was in a phase, but he was happy with the work that was coming out of it.

“Hey, I painted that!” Deidara said indignantly, moving to take it from him. Sasori’s eyes flashed at him as he pulled the canvas just out of reach.

“You paint?” he asked. Despite his plain expression, Deidara could sense the excitement bubbling in his tone. He raised an eyebrow, wondering what had caused this buzz of energy.

“Yeah? I paint,” Deidara replied, taking the painting from Sasori, “This is one of my paintings, man.”

Sasori’s cruel smile returned. “You should come over. Look at some real art.”

Deidara snorted as he turned away from Sasori to set his work down against the dark green wall. “What do you mean by real art?”

“My art,” he replied, smug. Deidara rolled his eyes, unimpressed.

“What makes your art real art?” Deidara asked.

“Come see.”

Deidara pursed his lips, curiosity peaked, “Why would I want to do that?”

Sasori moved for the window, not bothering to look back at Deidara. “You’ll never grow as an artist if you don’t look at the work of those with more skill and experience."

Deidara scoffed, watching as Sasori jumped out onto the turf. There was no such thing as real art, he decided, and in any case, there was no way this little boy was more talented than he was. However, he couldn’t help the curiosity bubbling in his chest about this strange kid with the red hair and cool expression. He glanced back at the open bedroom door...

“Come on. She won’t even notice,” Sasori said, finally looking back at Deidara from the otherside. Deidara didn’t believe him. Knowing his mother, he was due to get another check up from her within the hour, but before he could consider the consequences, his feet were following Sasori out the window.

-

Sasori watched the new kid from the other side of his plain, green bedspread as he gently flipped through the loose leafs of sketch paper. Wordlessly, he tucked each sheet behind the other as his blue eyes looked over the charcoal that covered each page in carefully built layers to craft the illusion of light and shape, all the while Sasori watched as his eyebrows furrowed and his lips pursed in an expression Sasori couldn’t read. The boy’s face scrunched up further as he took the top sheet and turned it at an angle, as if he couldn’t make out the subject of the piece. Eventually, Sasori’s fists gripped the fabric of his bedspread as he started to regret bringing the boy over at all.

“So?” Sasori finally asked, once the suspense became too much to bear, “What do you think?”

“It’s kind of boring,” the boy said finally.

“What?” Sasori’s body relaxed in a moment of dumbfoundedness before frustration began to bubble in his chest, “What do you mean it’s boring?”

“I  _ mean _ it’s just like...guys. You just draw a bunch of dudes,” he replied with a shrug, handing back the drawings. Sasori took them back, more forcefully than intended, and held them close to his chest.

“You must be joking. These pieces are technically perfect,” he said, unable to stop the offence from dripping into his voice as the boy across from him rolled his eyes.

“Yeah I guess if you’re trying to draw boring old men,” he said, clearly unimpressed, “Hurray for you, it’s  _ technically  _ perfect.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Sasori said with an exasperated sigh, “I mean my technique is perfect. Do you know  _ anything _ ?”

“I know what art is, and that’s not it, my man.” The boy gave a cavalier shrug before moving off the bed to snoop around the rest of Sasori’s bedroom. He could tell by the smile on the boy’s face that he found Sasori’s frustration amusing.

“Then what do you think art is?” Sasori asked, abandoning his sketches to follow him off the bed. The boy looked over his shelves, eyes lingering over the knick knacks as he pondered the question. Eventually he landed on an old marionette sitting with loose limbs hanging from her tiny body and empty brown eyes staring into the distance.

“Art is a moment,” he said finally, picking up the puppet and turning her over in his hands, mindful of the strings. Sasori fought the urge to stop him, unwilling to cut off his answer. “It’s supposed to be about life and death and anger and struggle. Those carbon copies of a guy’s face are cool, sure, but they don’t mean anything.”

“So you  _ don’t _ know anything. What are you, like thirteen? You don’t know anything about death or struggle. You wouldn’t know real art if it tore your arm off,” Sasori snapped, taking the marionette from Deidara. He took a moment to groom her dark hair before setting her back down on her shelf.

“I’m  _ fourteen _ , and how old are you, like ten?” the boy snapped back, crossing his arms. Sasori’s eyes lingered on the marionette for a moment longer before smirking over at the boy.

“I’m fifteen. Sixteen in November,” Sasori said plainly, turning to face the boy and crossing his arms to mirror him. The boy looked him over, unconvinced.

“No way, I don’t believe it,” the boy said, wrinkling his nose, “Are you in high school?”

“I mean, I would be if I wasn’t homeschooled,” Sasori said with a shrug as he sat on the edge of his bed.

“Well, damn. I still don’t think you’re actually any good at art,” the boy sniffed.

“Oh please, you have no idea-”

“I have no idea?  _ You _ have no idea-”

“You think you can judge me when your sloppy brushstrokes-”

“Sloppy?  _ Sloppy _ ?!”

“-look like a six year old got a hold of your paint-”

“How can you call my work sloppy when your pencil sketches are so smudgy?”

“They’re not  _ smudgy; _ it’s a technique that-”

“Well you can take your technique and shove it up your-”

“Hey Sasori! Who’s the new kid?”

The new voice grinded their argument to a screeching halt as their heads snapped towards the window. Kisame leaned against the windowsill, grinning at the two of them with wicked teeth. Sasori glowered at him, annoyed by the interruption, before turning to look at the boy he had neglected to learn the name of.

“Oh,” the boy said after a moment of awkwardness, “I’m Deidara.”

“Cool,” Kisame responded. With introductions out of the way, he moved on to what he’d come for, “Are you two coming to the lake or what?”

Sasori’s glowering turned to grimacing as he considered the cold, slimy water and the muddy shore around it. “Can’t we do something else? We go to the lake every day.”

Kisame rolled his eyes. “What do you think summers are for, dummy?”

“There’s a lake around here?” Deidara interjected, curious.

“Yeah, it’s like fifteen minutes down the path behind my house. We all go down there to hang out,” Kisame replied, his grin returning, “We have a clubhouse and everything.”

“I wouldn’t call an abandoned shed a clubhouse,” Sasori scoffed, crossing his arms. “It’s full of spiders.”

“No way,” Kisame insisted, “Nagato spent all morning cleaning it out and Konan put up lights. It’s super nice now. You could even bring your sketchbook and stay inside while we go swimming.”

Sasori considered this, looking back at his closed bedroom door. His grandmother and her brother were watching TV in the living room, and even throughout his argument with Deidarai, he could hear the white noise of a game show through the thick walls. He turned back to Kisame, “Fine.”

He turned around to put his sketches back into his portfolio and grabbed his sketchbook and pencil case from his bedside table and tucked the three items under his arm. “Alright, let’s go, Deidara.”

Deidara looked like he hadn’t even considered coming with them, despite Kisame’s invitation. “But… I don’t have a swimsuit.”

Sasori rolled his eyes at the lame excuse, “Kisame just told us we don’t have to go swimming. Come on; you should meet the others.”

Deidara’s eyes drifted over Sasori and Kisame’s shoulders to his home just yards away. Sasori watched him, unable to comprehend Deidara’s apprehension. Grandma Chiyo and Great Uncle Ebiz ō would continue their TV binge until late in the evening, stopping only to heat up their TV dinners. Sasori was grown enough to feed himself. He couldn’t imagine being babied the way Deidara clearly was.

“Have you ever heard that it’s better to ask forgiveness than permission?” Kisame asked. Deidara looked down at his feet, as if embarrassed by the amount of consideration he was giving his parents. He gave a noncommittal hum, pulling his crossed arms closer to his chest.

“Have you ever snuck out like this before?” Kisame asked, resting his cheek against his hand and leaning his elbow against the windowsill. Deidara shuffled awkwardly.

“No really,” he confessed.

“Great!” Kisame replied, still grinning despite the frustration Sasori could sense building behind his eyes. “Then if your parents get mad, you can just tell them you’re really sorry and that it won’t happen again. Problem solved, let’s  go .”

Deidara looked unconvinced, Sasori decided, watching the boy chew at his bottom lip. Was he really so concerned?

After a moment of letting Deidara contemplate, Kisame groaned and pushed away from the window, picking up a bag he must’ve set down before getting their attention. “Ugh, whatever. I can’t waste my time while you’re being such a big baby about it. Forget him, Sasori. Are you coming or not?”

Sasori pulled his gaze from Deidara and nodded, climbing out the window to join Kisame on the grass, but something stopped him mid-climb and he paused on the windowsill. Kisame had already started towards the lake, but Sasori was caught thinking about Deidara and the way they argued with each other. Were any of his other friends as intellectually stimulating? Deidara’s eyes raised to meet Sasori’s and Sasori beckoned him to join them once more.

This time, Deidara didn’t hesitate to follow him. .

-

Yahiko wiped his brow as he stepped back against the wall of the inside of the clubhouse, looking over the hard work of his comrades with pride. With an old rug from his garage, a handful of glass lanterns, and an aloe plant scavenged from a garbage bin behind a grocery store. The entire room was lit by fairy lights strung back and forth across the rafters.

“How are you going to get them to light out here by the lake?” Yahiko asked as Konan hopped down from the stepping stool she used to hang them.

“They’re battery powered,” she responded, tucking her blue hair behind her ear, “So we should probably keep the curtains open during the day.”

Yahiko nodded at her very sensible suggestion. He looked over his shoulder towards the open door and his friend standing there. “Nagato, what are you working on?"

“Come check it out,” he responded, looking back with a smile. Konan moved forward first, instinctually, and Yahiko followed as they crowded around Nagato. He pulled his hand away from the door frame, revealing a curling cloud carved into its surface. Yahiko looked over it in awe, gently touching at its rough edges.

“Careful, don’t get a splinter,” Nagato warned in his quiet voice, “I probably should have asked Sasori to do it. He’s better at this kind of thing.”

“Don’t be silly,” Yahiko said, wrapping his arm around Nagato’s shoulders and ruffling his hair, “I think it’s perfect. This place is officially ours. We’ve made our mark”

Nagato gave him a shy smile in return and put his pocket knife away.

“We’re back!”

The trio poked their heads out the open door to watch Hidan and Kakuzu turn around the side of the clubhouse, each carrying arms of grocery bags. Kakuzu carried them in a pile like loose laundry, while Hidan chose to string them onto his arms like pearls, cutting off his circulation with their weight. Yahiko and Konan moved to help them, taking some of the bags off their hands.

“I spent like half my allowance on this shit, so be grateful,” Hidan said as he shrugged the leftover bags of snack food further down his forearms as they moved into the clubhouse.

“Wait, Kakuzu was supposed to help pay,” Yahiko said, his voice more scolding than intended as he looked over his shoulder at Kakuzu and Konan following behind them.

Kakuzu shrugged, nonplussed by Yahiko’s disapproval, “Hidan owed me money. This is how we squared up.”

Yahiko couldn’t hide his frown as he turned forward to Hidan, who’s shoulders shrugged.

“Oh, stop fussing,  _ mom _ . I don’t mind,” Hidan said, setting down the bags of snacks in the middle of the round, woven rug, “Let Kuzu be a greedy prick. It’s part of his charm.”

This ruffled Kakuzu’s feathers more than any of Yahiko’s fussing. “You weren’t calling me greedy when I helped you buy your xbox, moron.”

Hidan stuck his tongue out at Kakuzu and sat on the edge of the rug to dig through their spoils. Kakuzu joined, squatting down beside him. With a playful shove, Hidan knocked the older teen onto his ass. “You only did it because your parents wouldn’t let you have one. You come over and play it evey day anyways.”

“It was an investment. Besides, you never want to play it,” Kakuzu said, once adjusted to his new position. He picked a twix from one of the grocery bags and ripped open its packaging, “You’re always on your PC.”

“Jashin ain’t on console yet, and all the games you got for us are boring as fuck,” Hidan said rolling his eyes as he popped open a container of pringles.

“That’s because you always lose,” he said, snapping his candy with his teeth, amusement clear in his dark eyes.

“ **_Yeah right!_ ** ” Hidan snapped.

Standing above them, Yahiko laughed aloud at the duo’s bickering, muffling the sound with his hand. Hidan playfully hit his leg with a fist and Yahiko reached to ruffle his hair. Clearly, they had their own system, and Yahiko could learn to worry less.

Konan cleared her throat, grabbing his attention and beckoning him to one of the windows with a hand. Once he joined her, she pointed out the shapes of Kisame and Sasori making their way down the path, trailed by someone with long blonde hair.

“Do you think it’s another girl?” Konan asked, almost hopeful.

“Only one way to find out,” he replied, taking her by the hand and pulling her backwards towards the door where Nagato still lingered, waving an arm towards the approaching group.

Kisame hurried faster down the path and tossed an athletic arm around Nagato’s shoulders the moment he was close enough. He pulled Nagato close and ruffled his hair affectionately. “The place looks even better than when I left.”

“The three of us have been working hard on it,” Yahiko said proudly, hands on his hips, “Konan managed to find a bunch of stuff in her attic and we’re gonna hit the junkyard tonight to see if we can find any furniture light enough to carry.”

“Sick,” Kisame responded with a nod of approval, “I bet I could grab some board games or something for when it’s raining.”

“Or for the people not interested in getting venereal diseases from the lake,” Sasori sneered from behind Kisame, who tossed a glare back in his direction.

“You can’t get an STD from a lake,” Kisame said before craning his head to look into the clubhouse, “So is Itachi here yet?”

“No, but I think I told Hidan and Kakuzu to check on him,” Yahiko said, following his gaze.

Hidan rose to join them at the mention of his name, and braced himself against the door frame, blocking the entrance completely, “We stopped on our way back from the 7/11. He said he was almost done with his summer reading, which you know means he won’t be here till sundown.”

“Well fuck,” Kisame said with a sigh.

“I don’t get why he’s taking so many AP classes next year. What’s the use of having college credits as a freshman?” Hidan asked.

“He’s probably trying to get away from you,” Kakuzu called from inside, still sitting on the rug. Hidan pushed away from the doorframe and disappeared back into the clubhouse. Yahiko decidedly ignored the sound of struggle that followed. Worry less, he reminded himself with a small smirk.

“Deidara will be joining them in the fall,” Sasori said, putting a hand on the blond kid’s shoulder and drawing Yahiko’s attention back to the newbie. Deidara, he thought to himself, making a point to tuck away the knowledge.

“Oh yeah? Well, I’m sure he’ll be happy to have some more company at school,” Yahiko said, despite not being sure at all. Itachi was hard to read at the best of times, but it was hard enough to be the new kid. He pushed past the thought and moved to introductions, offering a hand to shake, “Anyways, I’m Yahiko. This is Konan and Nagato. The guys fighting in the clubhouse are Hidan and Kakuzu, and it looks like you’ve met Kisame and Sasori. That’s almost everyone.”

“Everyone but Itachi?” Deidara guessed, taking Yahiko’s hand and shaking it.

“Yeah, you’ll meet him this evening though,” he replied.

“I gathered,” Deidara said, voice unsure. He was still feeling out where he would fit in among their group, Yahiko decided. “Well, it’s nice to meet you.”

His hesitance didn’t botter Yahiko. He knew they were an odd bunch, and many of them could come across as abrasive, but hopefully Deidara would stick around to find out why they worked so well together. He placed his other hand on Deidara’s shoulder and squeezed, “Come on in, Deidara. We were just about to have lunch. Hidan’s treat.”

Together, they moved into the clubhouse and gathered on the floor around the rug, picking at the bags of snack food sitting in a pile in the center of the room. Deidara slipped into the conversation naturally, and Yahiko was happy to have him if only for the way he pulled Sasori from his shell. Teasing laughter and playful jabbing christened the clubhouse as the afternoon sun beamed down on them, beginning its slow descent into the west.


	2. Art Is A Near Death Experience Pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hidan had already decided he liked Deidara well enough. He laughed at Hidan’s jokes and made Sasori mad, which was already enough to get on Hidan’s good side. However, Hidan still had his doubts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick warning for some implied vomiting and a pretty graphic description of drowning.

Hidan had enjoyed the group’s summer routine of coming to the lake everyday and breaking into pairs to explore the woods around the edges, looking for a good place to set up their base. For Hidan, it meant a week of catching snakes and climbing trees while Kakuzu chided him for having a death wish, though it had clearly been more productive for Yahiko, who found the shed late into the evening the day before.

Things would be different now that they had the shed. It had been a death trap yesterday, but with some tender loving care, their leader and his right and left hands had transformed it into a decent place to hang out. Hidan looked forward to a summer where the eight of them would have lunches together, play together, and swim together.

Most importantly, there was a sick cliffside cut sharply against the lake’s edge, perched about ten feet above the water’s surface. Since they’d finished lunch, Hidan and Kakuzu had been taking turns methodically cannonballing into the lake’s depths before climbing back to the top of the cliff to do it again, and Hidan decided it made a good addition to their summer afternoons.

There was also Deidara now, who, Hidan supposed, increased their numbers from eight to nine. Hidan had already decided he liked Deidara well enough. The other boy was about his age, which meant that when school started up again it wouldn’t just be him and Itachi in their freshman year, and he laughed at Hidan’s jokes and made Sasori mad, which was already enough to get on Hidan’s good side. However, Hidan still had his doubts as he considered the way he still nervously hung around Sasori and Konan.

The three of them sat together at the end of the old dock jutting into the lake. Sasori sat behind them, doodling in a big sketchbook he had propped against his knees while Deidara and Konan chatted about his old neighborhood and previous school, or whatever small talk you had with a new kid like him. Hidan watched, unimpressed, as Kakuzu climbed up the hill to join him.

“Are you going to jump or not?” Kakuzu asked dryly, his hair hanging limp and wet across his shoulders from his most recent jump. Hidan didn’t answer, eyes still stuck on the blond at the end of the dock.

“Hey Kakuzu,” Hidan called over his shoulder, “What do you think of the new kid?”

Kakuzu rolled his eyes, “I mean he’s fine. Are you going to jump?”

“Yeah, I was thinking that too,” Hidan replied.

“What, that he’s fine?” Kakuzu scoffed in return.

“I mean, he’s okay, but does he fit in? Is he going to mesh well with our dynamic?” Hidan asked, ignoring the quick padding of Kisame’s feet as he passed and dived into the water, the force of his weight spraying both of them with water. Kakuzu sighed deeply and crossed his arms, annoyed.

“I guess time will tell,” Kakuzu grumbled before aggressively gesturing in the direction of the cliffside, “Will you jump already?”

“You think so?” Hidan asked, continuing to ignore him.

“Well, we have to see how he deals with an annoying prick like you,” Kakuzu huffed. Hidan hummed pensively.

“That’s a good point, Kakuzu,” he said finally, shifting the weight of his hips.

“If you’re not going to jump, can you at least get out of the way?” he asked, pushing him out of the way to dive into the water, splashing Hidan with another mist. He stumbled but collected himself quickly, cupping the edges of his mouth.

“Hey Deidara! Come here!” Hidan called out. Konan looked over at him with narrow eyes that scolded him even from a distance as she leaned to whisper into Deidara’s ear. Hidan narrowed his eyes right back. “Konan, don’t spoil my fun!”

“He doesn’t have to listen to you, Hidan!” Konan yelled with a protective hand on Deidara’s shoulder.

“Hidan, what are you planning?” Kakuzu asked, water dripping from his hair as he climbed up the hill to jump again. Hidan tossed a coy smile over his shoulder.

“You’ll see,” he said before turning back towards the two sitting on the dock, and taking a deep breath to bellow louder. “Come on, you wuss!”

With that, Deidara shrugged Konan’s hand away before pulling himself to his feet and making his way towards the cliff. That was a good sign, Hidan thought to himself, the guy could be baited. Eventually the blond dragged himself up to the top of the cliffside to find Kakuzu and Hidan waiting for him. He looked unimpressed as Hidan gave him a devilish grin and Kakuzu tried his best to disguise his interest.

“Hey, blondie, what’s up?” Hidan asked, arms crossed against his bare chest. Deidara eyed him, hesitant to trust him after his exchange with Konan.

“Uh...not much?” he replied, maintaining a safe distance between himself and Hidan. Hidan’s smile only grew.

“Cool, so you have time for a dare, right?” he asked. Behind him, he could hear Kakuzu scoff, which only made Deidara more distrustful. Hidan held his eyes for a long moment, before Deidara ceded their staring contest.

“Sure, why not?” he said eventually.

“Great,” Hidan said before gesturing towards the cliffside, “Cannonball into the lake.”

Deidara blinked, incredulous, “What?”

“Yeah. We’ve all done it,” Hidan said, arms unfolding.

“But I’m, like, fully dressed,” Deidara replied, wrinkling his nose. Hidan let out a loud, exasperated sigh.

“So? That’s part of the dare,” he said, stepping around Deidara and shoving him towards the edge, “Scared to get a little wet?”

Deidara stumbled backwards, looking back at the steep ledge with wide eyes, “No! I just-”

“Then do it. Don’t be a pussy,” Hidan said, shoving him again.

Deidara’s foot slipped from underneath him, but he held his ground, planting his feet into the soft, wet dirt. “I can’t!”

Hidan gritted his teeth and rolled his eyes, stepping forward to push him one last time, “Just do it!”

This time Deidara’s feet faltered underneath him, and in a last ditch effort to preserve himself, he grabbed onto Hidan’s slick wrist. His eyes were wide and terrified.

“I-” he started, desperately trying to cling to Hidan, but his fingers were quickly giving away, “Hidan, I can’t swim!”

Hidan’s own eyes widened as he went to grab Deidara’s wrist to pull him back onto the cliff, but it was already too late. Deidara slipped away, plummeting towards the water’s still surface. Hidan looked over the edge, heart in his stomach as the splash from Deidara’s impact soaked him.

“Shit.”

-

Deidara hung weightlessly in a dark, angry cloud of murky, green lake water that filled his ears and stung his eyes. Nothing was visible other than the shadows of his own limbs, thrashing against an invisible enemy, pulled down by the weight of his wet clothes but held in place by the water around him. He closed his eyes and wished there was some way to close off his lungs, but the water seemed to force its way in, burning his nose and throat against his will. Even with his eyes closed, the world seemed to get darker, and his mind swam even if he couldn’t.

He gave into the still water. His thrashing stopped. His limbs went limp.

When his eyes opened again, his eyelids struggled against the weight of exhaustion. The shadow of a person hung above him, haloed in the heavenly pinks and oranges of an evening sky. It was impossible to make any features except for the whites of the dark eyes that considered him. Thoughts of museums with baroque angels bathed in swatches of warm light ran through Deidara’s mind as he looked up at the stranger.

With one more hard press to his chest, Deidara sat up and leaned to the side, emptying his stomach of the water and potato chips that lingered there. After coughing a few times and taking a few deep breaths of air, raucous laughter broke out behind him.

“Shut up, Hidan,” said the boy sitting on his knees at Deidara’s side. Even now that he could finally breathe again, his head still felt as if it were full of cotton. He couldn’t stop staring at the sharp angles of the boy’s face and watching the sunlight catch on his eyelashes like snowflakes.

“What?” Hidan said between bursts of laughter, “He didn’t die!”

“No thanks to you,” Konan said, shoving Hidan roughly.

“I didn’t know he couldn’t swim!” Hidan said, defensive but humor still colored his tone, “Thank fuck that boy wonder over here showed up, bounding down the dock like superman to save the day.”

The boy rolled his eyes at the backhanded praise as he rose to his feet. Deidara’s eyes lingered on those dark eyes until the boy cleared his throat and Deidara noticed his hand extended towards him. He took it and pulled himself to his feet, staggering into the boy’s side. The sun was low in the sky, and its reflection off the lake was both disorienting and blinding. The boy gave a soft sigh as he pulled Deidara’s arm over his shoulder, propping him up with his own body.

“So was that your first kiss or what, Itachi?” Hidan prodded, his grin apparent in his sporadic giggling. Deidara’s face flushed, but he couldn’t bring himself to look away. The boy, Itachi, must have given him mouth to mouth while he was still unconscious. He watched the way Itachi’s jaw clenched.

“I told you to shut up, Hidan,” he said plainly, his voice untouched by his otherwise obvious anger.

“We gotta teach you to swim, Blondie!” Hidan continued, “Unless you like smooching Itachi, then by all means, I’m happy to drown you again!”

Hidan yelped in pain as Kisame bopped his head with a fist. “He said shut up, stupid.”

With Hidan’s heckling replaced with loud complaining, Itachi finally looked over to the dull eyed boy he had slung across his shoulders. “Let me get you home.”

Deidara nodded weakly and together they started back towards the cul de sac with Kisame and Sasori trailing behind them. 

“You really should have learned to swim before going to the lake,” Itach said without looking at him. Deidara opened his mouth to protest, only to be disappointed when the only sound he could muster was a pathetic groan.

“Kisame dragged us here,” Sasori piped up, voice annoyed.

“Hey, that’s not fair-” Kisame and Sasori argued over whose fault it was that Deidara was near the lake and susceptible to Hidan’s bullying, but it all seemed very far away to Deidara. Of course Sasori would stand up for him, Deidara thought idly, that was his man for sure.

As for the boy beside him - Itachi, he had to remind himself- he seemed to pay no mind to the others’ bickering, instead looking forward and following Deidara’s vague instructions towards home. He really was stunning, Deidara thought, mind and eyes drifting back to his sharp features and eyes that already held the depths of decades despite his youth. Deidara found himself itching to capture them on canvas. He wanted to say something intelligent or witty to get his attention. He wanted Itachi to look at him again.

“Kisame will teach you, if you like. He taught Sasori,” Itachi said, cutting into the boys’ argument and Deidara’s daydreaming. “You can’t get used to being saved like this, especially not by me. I have other things to worry about.”

With that, any obsession with Itachi’s beautiful features came to a screeching halt. What was that supposed to mean? Deidara thought, narrowing his eyes at Itachi. How dare he? It wasn’t as if he nearly drowned on purpose to inconvenience him. He didn’t even know the guy until moments ago. Deidara didn’t need to be saved! Not all the time anyways, and certainly not by pretty boys with tired eyes and superiority complexes. He wanted to say as much, but his voice was still weighed down by damp clothes and heavy bones.

The four of them made their way onto the asphalt of the cul de sac and Itachi took another cumbersome breath as he shifted Deidara’s weight. “Now, which house is yours?”

-

Deidara’s mother had been pacing the floor of her living room for what felt like hours. Deidara had always been a good boy. Before the move, he mostly kept to himself, with the exception of the little girl who lived across the hall of their apartment complex, and he’d never been known to act out or misbehave. Sure, like most boys his age, he was opinionated and he often fought against his parents, but she never expected the move to be a tipping point to his behavior. He wasn’t happy, she knew that, but to escape out his bedroom window without so much as a word of goodbye was completely unheard of.

“He should know better,” said her husband from his living room chair. He sat there stoically, a sharp contrast to her manic movements across the room. She wasn’t truly listening. Her mind was caught up on nearby bus stations, trains, airports, and other ways a young boy could attempt to get as far away from home as possible.

“He should know to tell us when he leaves the home,” he continued bitterly. Deidara hadn’t stolen her credit card or any cash from her purse, so he must have been working with whatever he had left of his allowance. She thought back to the sketchbook and new markers he’d bought before the move and wondered exactly how much he had left. If he had enough for a bus ticket, he could already be miles away.

“We don’t even know how long he’s been gone,” she lamented on the brink of tears as she paused her pacing.

“We should call the police,” he said, fingers digging anxiously into the upholstery of his chair. She stomped her foot as she swiveled to look at him.

“I don’t want to call the police. I want to go out looking for him!” she said, voice pitched up in her hysteria.

“It’s nearly nightfall! How are we supposed to find him out there?” he snapped. It was less a question than it was an expression of his frustration as he stood from his chair. Deidara’s mother threw her arms into the air in an expression of her own.

“I don’t know!” she said loudly, tears beginning to well up in her eyes, “but he could be hurt!”

“Well you know what?” he said, one hand on his hip as the other pointed accusatory towards his wife, “maybe if he gets hurt, he’ll know better than to run off.”

“How dare you! He’s just a boy. We’re his parents!” Before Deidara’s father could reply, the doorbell rang.

“Deidara!” she cried, hurrying to the door and swinging it open. She was surprised to see a young teen with dark hair and an apologetic expression looking up at her with her son leaning heavily against his shoulder.

“Are you Deidara’s mother?” he asked, all politeness. She nodded as she tried to process the sight in front of her. Deidara and the boy were both soaked to the bone, clothes and all, as if they were trying to catch colds. Was there a swimming pool in the area? Was Deidara hurt? Where had he been?

“Did...did something happen?” was the question she eventually landed on.

“I’m fine,” Deidara said quickly, but not without strain. It didn’t do much to quell her anxiety.

“He nearly drowned,” the boy said, earning a glare from Deidara and a gasp from his mother, “But we have several good swimmers in our friend group, and we’re going to teach him how to swim.”

“Oh good,” she said, still not quite over the implication that she’d nearly lost her only son. In the next moment, the boy’s words echoed in her mind. Friend group? With that she noticed the two other teens standing behind them, trying their best to look equally apologetic. Her mind slipped back to Deidara, closed up in his room, keeping to himself, without a single friend, and yet there were three young people standing around him.

“Deidara, get inside. Now,” came her husband’s voice from inside the home. The tall boy with blue hair gave her a small smile.

“We hope he’s not in too much trouble,” he said as Deidara’s mother guided her son into the house by his shoulder.

“We’ll see,” she admitted with her own sad smile as she hesitantly closed the door.

“We’ll see you tomorrow, Deidara!” called the short redhead, just before the latch clicked. With the door shut, and fear of embarrassing her teenage son out of the way, she bent to inspect him for bumps and bruises and found none. Other than being worn out, Deidara seemed to be in good spirits.

His father was far less enthused. He sat back down in his chair and leaned heavily on his thighs with his elbows. Deidara’s mother stood protectively by his side, an arm around her son holding him to her hip. His father’s eyes narrowed at her, but he passed on the opportunity to chide her for not being on his side and turned his gaze to Deidara.

“I cannot believe you would do this to me and your mother,” he began, vitriol already dripping from every word, “She was worried sick. You could have been hurt, or kidnapped, or killed. Imagine if I had to call the police. We’ve only been here for a few hours, Deidara, and we’d already be the house on the block to avoid, just because you went running off with some punk ass kids.”

Deidara’s mother clenched her jaw as she thought back to the teenagers who filled her door frame. They were young, and polite, and filled with concern and care for her son. “How old were they? I couldn’t quite tell.”

“They’re my age! Or thereabouts,” he said, looking up at her with a smile that was usually reserved for the rarest of occasions, “There are a few older kids, but mostly they’re in either my grade or the one above. One of them lives next door.”

“Oh wow...how many of them are there?” she asked, bright eyes.

“Like eight? Besides me of course,” he said, his smile turning to a grin and she grinned in return.

“Eight! Really? Eight new friends?” she asked, bouncing on her heels at the prospect.

“Deidara,” said her husband in a low tone that couldn’t cut through her joy.

“What are they like?” she asked, smoothing a hand over his damp head.

“Well, one of them is an artist too,” he replied brightly.

“An artist!” she replied, delighted, “What kind of stuff do they make? Did you tell them I used to work as a critic?”

“Well, not yet but he-”

“Deidara!” This time the two looked at the man in the room and frowned at him. His fingernails dug into familiar tears in the fabric of his chair as he glared at his wife and son, but neither of them seemed anything more than annoyed by his outburst. “You aren’t to run off like that again, do you hear me?”

“Yes sir,” Deidara said with a heavy sigh, and his mother struggled not to smile at the amount of effort taken not to roll his eyes. She bit her lip and held her tongue while her husband stood and stormed out of the living room to grab himself a cup of decaf or to head to bed early in protest. Once gone, she looked down at her son and rubbed his shoulder affectionately.

She smiled at him and he smiled back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know if you're enjoying read because I'm enjoying writing!

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment and send any questions to mrnara on tumblr! I also have a Queer Naruto Discord, please message me on tumblr if you're interested!


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